The divine battle raged on in the distance still.

White formations of bones clashed with the sweeping clouds of plague. A similar battle occurred within Lorelei’s bloodstream, her white cells attempting to push out the disease. Symmetry was a steady companion in the Lady’s creation. One of the many patterns to be recognized and cherished for the beauty it offered.

“Rel…” Moira mumbled.

The seer forced herself to stand fully straight. She did not notice the way her left shoulder had slumped until the worried word. “I am fine, Warden.”

“Where is Undine?” The question was harsh and to the point.

Lorelei conjured the Lady-crafted communications that the hallowed Gamer used to communicate with those who had received his blessed mark. Updates were written constantly. The Eternal Sanctum was vast, its structure confusing to begin with and further obfuscated by the god of gluttony.

“The elementals have been separated from the Metracanas,” Lorelei reported. “They crossed a vast road together, but ended up in two different places. Ehtra and Metra report to have ended up in the same place as Aclysia, a vast field of diseased flowers. The elementals are now fighting through an ocean of plague.”

Moira pressed her lips together. A warm orange filled her soul, the colour of genuine worry, tinged red by the anger at her own helplessness. It was warming to be cared for in such a manner. “Do you not see a path from us to them?”

“I am, as ever, blind to my own fate, honoured Warden,” Lorelei gently reminded her of what she already knew. “I sense my place is here. One of my beloveds will find me when the time is right, I believe it.”

“You trust those new friends of yours deeply,” Moira noted.

“My trust in my old friend has ever been validated.” Lorelei bowed her head and made the Warden sigh. The redhead tried to sound annoyed and stern, while being inwardly flattered at her words. She ever was like that. “You know them well.”

“Enough to make a judgement in their favour,” Moira agreed, then stepped in front of Lorelei.

A living construct of pink stone and dust rolled towards them. Rapidly it approached, bringing with it a storm of virulent particles. A barrage of pebbles broke on the Warden’s divine shield, then Moira charged forwards. The halo of her Awakening flared up from near inactivity, to radiance once more.

The bout that followed was short-lived. Trusting in her shield and heavy plate armour, Moira took the hits of the enemy head on. The Blessing neutralized the clouds of poison around the enemy, while she smashed it to pieces with her long-shafted warhammer.

Lorelei withstood the urge to scratch her left arm. The infection had gathered there and was proceeding the fastest. Having followed Delicia’s reports on the progress of the disease, she knew the symptoms. Her flesh was turning into a purple jelly. Scratching at it would have torn the soft tissue off. Best to leave it in place for when a healer managed to reach her.

Moira walked backwards when returning to Lorelei. The creature she had just battled had been an accidental side product of that vast battle they were observing. Both gods were upping the power as they went along and both were manifesting that power as much in created minions as they did in spells meant to do harm. A clash between gods was rarely a forward battle.

“Where is the Gamer?” Moira demanded to know. “Give me a full update.”

“As you desire, Warden.” Lorelei had anticipated the question and did not need to scan the log again. “The sacred Gamer remains in the Sanctum’s rain area. He has been located by Jane…”

“…Of course…” Moira whispered a comment, “…like a pair of magnets, those two…”

“The remaining members of the present harem have found themselves in a land of darkness, likely the former realm of Tezcatlipoca. Some of them were initially separated but have since convened. They are currently supporting a strike force by the Necropolis. Lee is trying her best to drill further into the god-lock. She claims to enable guided movement soon.”

“Good.” The relief in Moira’s tone was immediate. “We need to get you to Undi-“

Her words were cut off by an earthquake. The fog of war created by the clashing gods was sucked up like a dust cloud in the presence of a hurricane. In the eye of the storm, the two gods were locked in a straightforward duel of magic. A gargantuan skeletal hand was locked with an equally gargantuan chunk of stone. Bones and stone cracked bit by bit as ever greater magical power was brought to bear.

Shaking ever more intensely, the ground made for a difficult surface to walk on. Neither of the two gods were aligned with the element of arcane, yet purple lightning manifested all the same around them. A thunderstorm of raw magical energy was created by the passive release of their power. A hurricane turned from a metaphor to a worrisome reality.

Directionless magic clashed, creating a growing vortex of multi-coloured energy. It swelled and swelled. Lorelei took the wise decision to drop to the ground and curl up behind the Shield Warden.

Blue and purple lightning struck the ground all around them, blasting apart the ground. Individual pebbles jumped from the constant quaking of the land. The vortex connected all the way to the city above, ripping part of the Necropolis asunder. Gothic and medieval buildings were turned into tumbling pieces of debris, swirling in the energy of the gargantuan clash.

The hurricane tore apart like a piece of paper. All of the swirling energy violently transformed into an outward wave. “LADY, SHIELD US!” Moira prayed and dug her heels in.

Even behind the sacred wall that was the Warden, Lorelei felt the ripple of magic like a series of hammer strikes against her lungs. Her ears popped repeatedly, pressure rising and falling rapidly. A regular human would have had their eardrums burst, if they were lucky, and the brain shredded inside their skull if they were not.

Then came the debris.

Pieces of buildings hailed down on them, closely followed by the sometimes still alive remains of skeletal dragon and golems of plague stone. Moira cast her warhammer aside and put her second hand against the back of her tower shield. The deific metal rang constantly from the impacts.

When the dust began to settle and the discord of ambient magic could be peered through once more, Lorelei witnessed the renewed clash of the two gods. The king of all wraiths pulled upon yet greater forces. A gesture of his hand pulled a thousand souls from the damaged Necropolis up above. The genuine undead, more than just conjured bodies, were given powerful forms to inhabit. Macuil met the challenge with the appearance of a second body on the battlefield. Wreathed in a storm of purple flower petals and pollen, the second avatar crafted from a mostly digested god hurled himself into the crowd.

“Do you retain that the Grim Reaper is favoured?” Moira asked, witnessing the new development.

“They both prepared for long,” the seer answered. “Further, it appears to me that Macuil’s power suffers from the activation of his additional bodies.”

The stone avatar clashed once more with the Grim Reaper. From what Lorelei could see, the power it could bring to bear had been lessened. It had not been split in half, but any diminishment in this match was notable. Where the god of gluttony was forcing his multiple presences through creative use of his power, the Grim Reaper’s divested might was his natural gift. The undead legion that now fought for him was no match for the second body of Macuil, but they did halt him with no evident cost for the Grim Reaper. Further, they remained immortal.

“If I assess correctly, the resilience of the undead shall eventually win out over the might stockpiled by the devourer. They are many and he is few.”

Moira gave an abrupt nod, then switched the topic, “Do we have reinforcements on the way?”

“Nathalia, Eliana and Nightingale had begun to move, but they will need to utilize mundane airplanes to get here. It will take them hours,” Lorelei reported. “It is a motion of caution rather than likelihood.”

Another harsh nod. “Then we will win with what we have.”

The cataclysmic bout continued in the distance. Lorelei felt a harsh pang of pain in her arm. Gritting her teeth, she repressed the urge to scratch. After the brief torment, a worrisome, dull throbbing set in. She had to make her fingertips twitch to make sure they were still there.

The seer snapped to attention. Her head turned towards the Warden. Second sight focused on something that grew more clear by the moment. A strike, a pincer, a singular flash of radiance, an arrogant vulture, a forked path – the images came together in a mosaic surrounded by a halo. “What did you see?” Moira asked.

“The road to victory shall open if you intervene in this fight, honoured Warden,” Lorelei declared. “You will deliver a decisive blow.”

The Warden clenched her jaw. Her green eyes hardened. In her soul, there was regret at the action she would take next. As the inheritor of the Brighton line, however, she could not stand guard when she had heard of a path to smite the wicked. Not even a Varnik, not even a friend, was to hinder her from the ultimate goal of their Order.

“Lady, hear my prayer…” she muttered and set eyes upon the battle between gods, “…awaken me!”

The Warden’s halo shone with sacred light. Had the situation permitted, Lorelei would have teared up in the presence of the holy radiance. Instead, she took a couple of steps back, continuing to keep an eye out for herself. Moira leapt into the battle between gods fearlessly.

Lines of destiny aligned. The battle between Grim Reaper and Macuil took the two divine beings into this area of the Sanctum. The kilometres that Moira would have had to cross shrunk to mere dozens by the sudden relocation of the repeated strikes.

Dozens of bone spikes rose from the ground, a horrid mixture between a ribcage and a closing maw. The Warden charged up the near vertical surface of the nearest one. Macuil dodged and weaved, flying as effortlessly as he jumped, flinging boulders at the Grim Reaper. It was not until Moira was next to the god that he noted the Warden’s presence.

“BY ALL THAT IS RADIANT, SMITE THIS WICKED TRAITOR OF THE BLESSED PATH!” The Warden’s voice boomed, the head of her Mithril hammer getting entirely covered in the favour of the Lady. The heavy head left a solid trail of golden light, before hammering down on the god of gluttony’s exposed back.

The Grim Reaper redirected his spell swiftly. The raised ribs slammed down on top of Macuil, burying the body of the god as he was still impacting the ground. Layer upon layer of bone covered him. Shadows seeped from the black robe of the embodiment of the fear of death, a dark tide that filled the gaps between the white spikes.

The seal was still forming, when Macuil smashed through its top. Rapidly, power concentrated in the present body. A singular pair of wings had adorned his back before. Three more pairs sprouted soon. The Five Vulture, that was the name of the god translated. A name to be taken partially literally. Four of his pairs of wings were now imbued into that singular body, the last pair in the distance fighting the undead army.

“I’ve had quite enough of you meddling in my fun!” the Great Devourer declared.

Two vulture wings became four, then six, eight, and finally ten. Ten great wings of purple feathers, shimmering in prismatic colours as if oiled. The nails of the god extended and curved into miniature versions of the hooked beaks of the scavenging bird, each of them drooling the Digestive Plague.

Raising both of his hands, the god created a maw with his hands. The beaks and digits were the teeth. Unnatural flow of disease made for the lips. Through a gap between his wrists, the god of gluttony stared at Lorelei.

Warden and Grim Reaper were already on the move. As Moira leapt, the head of a vulture burst from the back of the god. Its beak split wide, vomiting forth a stream of the horrid infestation. It slammed against Moira’s shield, driving her back.

Lorelei could do naught but accept the inevitable. The spellwork was too vast for her to understand. All she could realize was its scope. A singular target, an instant, and a degree of preparation required that left the god wide open. He had deemed it acceptable to take a hit from the Grim Reaper in exchange for completion of the spell.

The Grim Reaper did not take the strike.

“Always blind to your own fate.” The hand of the shadow-mantled wraith landed gently on the seer’s shoulder. “Let there be no sin.”

“I DEVOUR!” Macuil brought his hands together like a clenching maw. The form of the Grim Reaper disappeared behind the invisible fangs of magic. The spell swallowed him whole, gulped him down into a place beyond Lorelei’s reach.

A backlash went through the fabric of magic. Originating from Macuil himself, the sudden unification of previously opposite forces rapidly ran through the entirety of the Sanctum. Competition became synchronicity, the edges of the Eternal Sanctum and the Necropolis bending towards each other. The realm of the undead fused at the seams to the assortment of devoured god-homes.

Macuil laughed. “REALLY? REALLY?!?” Manically, he clapped his hands together. “FOR A HUMAN?! HE LET HIMSELF BE DEVOURED TO PROTECT A HUMAN! HAHAHAHA-“

The god of gluttony’s laughter ended suddenly. Out of his agape maw, the tip of the Grim Reaper’s scythe surfaced. The dull colour of the metal was a stark contrast to the vile purple plumage and copper skin of Macuil.

Grabbing the tip of the weapon, he forcefully shoved it back down his gullet. Red eyes reflected deep irritation. Shadows gushed like excess discharge from the sides of his mouth. His jaw unhooked like that of a snake, just so the god of gluttony could keep shoving weapon and shadow down. He only pulled his hand back out after his arm had been down to the elbow.

Then, he let out a tired burp.

“What a meal,” he groaned and shook his head and inhaled sharply. A moment later he coughed up blood. “I shall be generous and allow you to live in despair for a little bit longer. A nap is in order,” Macuil pressed out the flat words. His separated fifth rejoined the whole as he spoke. The undead army in the distance had simply stopped fighting. “Struggle for my amusement.” The wings beat, accelerating the villain to hypersonic speed in the blink of an eye.

Moira did not attempt to chase after something she could not catch. Instead, she hurried over to Lorelei. Sweating profusely, the seer had collapsed to her knees. “Concentrate,” the Warden ordered.

“A short-lived weakness from shock,” Lorelei assured with a weak smile. With the help of her friend, she rose back to her feet. “That way.”

“Intuition?” Moira wanted to know.

“Faith rewarded,” Lorelei answered. “We have taken a fork on the road to victory, blessed Warden. Our Golden Rose has not yet wilted.”

Moira kept the good arm of the seer over her shoulder as they walked. “Then let us see the Lady’s design through to the end.”